Time Running Out
by Another Writer Who Loves
Summary: Three months, six days, nine hours. That's how long Sam managed to last. Three months, six days, nine hours into the last year of Deans life before he was taken down to hell. Three months, six days, nine hours.


Three months, six days, nine hours.

That's how long Sam managed to last. Three months, six days, nine hours into the last year of Deans life before he was taken down to hell. Three months, six days, nine hours.

Dean wasn't sleeping as much anymore, he tried to laugh it off and say that he was going to be sleeping plenty soon enough so he doesn't want to waste his time on Earth asleep. Sometimes he laid in bed watching the television on low to not disturb Sam at night, other times he just seemed to be in bed not sleeping.

It was one of those nights, those nights that Dean wasn't sleeping but was pretending to. Sam slowly moved out of his bed, staring at his brothers figure on the other one. He knew that Dean was immediately aware of his movements but didn't say anything.

Sam sat down on the edge of Deans bed for a moment before he reached out and lifted the blanket, sliding himself under it and moving until he could press up to Deans back. He felt his brother shaking slightly and he wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the back of his neck.

Slowly Dean stopped shaking, his own hand coming up to grip at Sams tightly, entwining their fingers together. Sam breathed out slowly and moved until he could press a kiss to the back of Deans neck.

He felt more than heard the hitch of Deans breath. "Sammy?" he whispered, not turning around just yet. "What're you doing?"

Sam swallowed hard and curled closer to his brother, holding onto him tightly. "You know what." he whispered back.

Dean was quiet at that, neither one of them spoke about it, neither of them brought it up or tried to ever question it or think about it.

He wasn't sure about Dean but he did think about that night. Thought about it constantly. About the night he had left for Stanford.

After the fight with their dad, about never coming back, Dean had gone to him and offered a ride to the bus station in a quiet voice, something Sam accepted with a nod and tears in his eyes.

The ride had been silent, neither of them really knew what to say to one another. Dean hadn't gone directly to the bus station, stopping instead in a clearing out of town.

When the both of them had looked at one another, something broke between them. He wasn't sure who had made the first move but it resulted in them kissing deeply, clinging to one another desperately with Sam on Dean's lap.

Then in a hushed voice Dean asked him to stay, asked Sam to stay with him in the hunting life. In return Sam asked him to join him at Stanford, to join him for a normal life.

Neither of them were willing to do so, Sam couldn't stay in the hunting life, he felt as if he was being pressed from all sides and as if he was drowning with no hope of staying afloat.

Dean found a life in hunting, he enjoyed the thrill and he reveled in the saving people. He liked being adrift and afloat and he had no desire to leave hunting to settle somewhere and try to do the normal thing.

In the end, Sam couldn't stay and Dean couldn't go. They clung to one another as long as they could before Dean carefully put Sam back into the passenger's seat and drove the rest of the way to the bus station. Once they reached it Sam hesitated, glancing back at his brother. He wanted to kiss him once more but the hint of tears in Dean's eyes spurred him to get out of the car.

He tried to push it out of his mind the entire time he was at Stanford. Tried to focus on his studies and then on Jess once they got together.

It got harder not to think about it when Dean came back into his life in the middle of the night with a smirk and a "Hey tiger,". It got harder not to think about it when Sam officially started hunting again. It got harder not to think about it once they were sharing a motel room again and slowly started to live in each other's pockets once more.

But now...everything was different. Everything had changed and this time...they had a deadline. There was a finish line for Dean that neither of them wanted and neither of them could do a single thing about it.

Sam closed his eyes and curled around his brother, entwining their legs together as well. Dean didn't move away from him, if anything he pressed back just as much and held onto Sam.

"Sam..." Dean whispered, shaking slightly once more. "Sammy we're...we're brothers."

"I know." Sam whispered, swallowing hard once more. "I know but...I don't care."

Maybe he never did care, maybe it was something he wanted to ignore. Maybe it just didn't mean a single damn thing.

Or maybe it was because of that fact, that they were brothers, two halves of something that when put together made something that he couldn't name and didn't care to.

"I don't care." Sam repeated. "Do you?"

Dean didn't say anything but he did shake his head slightly, trying to turn in Sams grip so that he could look at him. Sam let go enough for him to do so, watching the moonlight illuminate his brother.

Sam laid onto the bed, just staring at his brother and holding onto him. Dean reached out to take Sams hand in his and just held onto him.

"I'm going to hell Sam." Dean whispered. "This...you shouldn't do this."

Meaning that Sam shouldn't get attached, that in less than nine months Dean was going to be gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

"You're not going to go to hell Dean." Sam told him. "I'm going to try my best to stop this, I'm going to save you."

Dean smiled at him, the same smile from when Sam was a kid and Dean was humoring him on something that Sam was arguing for.

"I'm going to." Sam whispered, almost angrily. "You're not going to go to hell Dean, I'm not going to let you."

"Okay Sammy." Dean said, laying back on the bed once more. He rubbed his thumb against Sam's hand and fell silent for a moment.

Sam took that silence and leaned in closer to his brother. He moved until their breaths mingled together, the both of them staring at one another.

Dean was the one that closed the distance, kissing Sam gently and almost chastely. His free hand came up to cup at Sams cheek tenderly, almost reverently. Sam felt an almost sob escape him at the gentle motion and pressed deeper into the kiss.

It took Sam three months, six days, nine hours to slip into his brothers bed, kiss him, and just hold onto him. Hold onto him desperately as the clock ticked against them. They had nine months and twenty five days left together, nine months and twenty five days for Sam to figure out how to save Dean and keep him by his side.

At the nightstand the clock flickered to midnight.

Nine months, twenty four days.

**I do not own Supernatural. **

**208/365**

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